18+ | content warnings… top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!character, two best friends have sex
twt link… moaning against your mouth because he forgot how to kiss.
it all started so innocently, just two “friends” cuddling together—what’s wrong with that? and now the room is too hot—should we take off our shirts?
the two of you were just laughing, making jokes like it was just another day, the kind of jokes that'd make anyone question your relationship. you pretended to ignore the sheen layer of sweat that glistened on his skin, the goosebumps that erupted when your fingers brushed his skin.
he pretended not to notice your nervous swallow when he rested his head on your chest, though he watched your adams apple bob his periphery.
then it was silent. the sheets ruffled as you adjusted, awkward huffs of air when the positioning still wasn't right.
“let me try…”
though you weren’t expecting him to roll on top of you and plant his palms on your chest with such a feverish expression. grinding his hips down, pulling a sharp gasp out of you, and he bit his lips to stop the whine he would've let out.
what a silly boy, thinking he’d be the one to control the pace—his arms were weak the second you slipped your cock past his puckering hole. you had no mercy, using your hands to keep him up, fingers twisting and tugging his sensitive nipples as you pleased.
your lips met, and for a moment, it was tame.
but he just couldn’t get enough, now messily lapping against your mouth, trying to savor every hushed sound of pleasure that escaped your throat as he sucked you back in with every roll of his hips.
synopsis ➸ five hours of punishment paperwork turns into eleven hours trapped in the office with vice-captain hoshina. a hidden sake bottle and a secret romance novel spark a heated debate about fiction versus reality—especially when it comes to two people who can't decide if they want to strangle each other or do something else entirely
The fluorescent lights of the Third Division office hummed quietly as you signed the final document with a flourish. Five hours of mind-numbing paperwork finally complete. You flexed your cramping fingers, the pen leaving a slight indentation on your skin where you'd gripped it too tightly. The stack of completed forms—mission reports, resource requisitions, personnel evaluations—sat neatly organized before you, a testament to your punishment duty. A week of administrative hell for what Vice-Captain Hoshina had officially termed "excessive initiative in the field" but was really just you ignoring a direct order because you'd seen a better tactical approach. You'd been right, of course, but chain of command was chain of command.
You glanced up at Vice-Captain Hoshina, who was sprawled comfortably on the leather sofa across the room. His long legs were stretched out, his standard Defense Force after-hours uniform somehow looking immaculate despite his relaxed posture. His dark purple hair fell in that perfect bob around his face, not a strand out of place even after a full day. The bandage on his cheek from a recent mission was the only thing marring his appearance. Those perpetually half-lidded eyes were fixed on his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as they had been for the past five hours. The soft blue glow illuminated his sharp features in the dimming light of the office.
For someone so deadly with a sword, he certainly knew how to waste time. You wondered what was so engrossing—a game? Messages? You'd never know. He'd barely spoken ten words to you during each punishment session, just sliding the stack of papers across the desk with that infuriating little smirk when you arrived each evening.
"I'm finished," you announced, the first words spoken in at least two hours. Your voice sounded oddly loud in the quiet room.
Hoshina didn't look up immediately. He tapped his screen a few more times before his eyes flicked toward you. "Are you now?" His voice was smooth, with that ever-present hint of amusement. He stretched, his broad shoulders rolling beneath the fabric of his uniform, before standing with the effortless grace that made him so lethal in combat.
He approached the desk—your desk, technically his desk that you'd been using—with unhurried strides. You could smell his scent as he drew closer: clean sweat, the detergent from his uniform, and something faintly metallic, like polished steel. The scent of a swordsman.
Hoshina leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His presence filled the space around you, commanding and intense. He flipped through the completed paperwork with practiced efficiency, his long fingers moving swiftly through the pages. You sat rigid, uncomfortably aware of his proximity, of how easily he dominated the space around you without even trying.
"Well done," he finally said, straightening up and clapping you on the shoulder. His hand was heavy, strong, the calluses from years of swordplay evident even through the fabric of your uniform. "Everything seems to be in order. Congratulations on completing your punishment, Soldier."
You stood, eager to put some distance between yourself and the Vice-Captain. "Thank you, sir."
Hoshina's mouth quirked into that familiar half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Just don't mess up again," he added, voice dropping lower, almost intimate in its warning. "I'll have to come up with something much more... creative next time." The threat hung in the air between you, not entirely professional, laden with something you couldn't quite identify.
You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself. "I'm sure you will, sir," you replied, the honorific carrying just enough sarcasm to be noticeable but not enough to be insubordinate. Again.
He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. "Still got that attitude. Some things never change."
You turned away, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows across the office and painting the walls in shades of amber and gold. The workday was long over; most of the Division had left hours ago. You just wanted to get back to your quarters, shower away the tedium of paperwork, and forget about Vice-Captain Hoshina and his infuriating smirk for at least twelve blessed hours.
You strode to the door, grasped the handle, and pulled. Nothing happened. You frowned, tried again, putting more force behind it. The door remained stubbornly closed.
"Problem?" Hoshina asked, that note of amusement still present in his voice.
"Door's stuck," you muttered, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.
Hoshina raised an eyebrow, crossing the room with those silent, predatory steps that were so at odds with his casual demeanor. "Let me try." He nudged you aside with a firm hand on your waist, his touch brief but unmistakably authoritative.
You stepped back, watching as he gripped the handle and pulled. His forearm tensed, the muscles visible beneath his skin as he applied steady pressure. The door didn't budge. His expression shifted, the perpetual amusement fading into something more focused, more serious.
"Damn it," he muttered, releasing the handle and running a hand through his hair. Recognition dawned in his eyes. "I forgot about the new security protocols."
"What new protocols?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.
Hoshina sighed, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the situation. "After the Kaiju No. 9 attack and the office rebuilding, they installed an automated security system. After hours, all doors lock automatically to secure the facility." His eyes met yours, and for once, they were fully open, alert. "We're locked in."
You stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking."
"I wish I were," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of his frame.
"Can't we override it? Break the door down?" you suggested, already calculating the force needed. You were strong, and with Hoshina's help, a simple office door shouldn't be a problem.
He shook his head, the purple strands of his hair swaying slightly. "Breaking it down would trigger the emergency protocols. The entire building would go into lockdown, security teams would be dispatched..." He fixed you with a pointed look. "Not great for either of our records, especially for a senior recruit already on thin ice for 'acting out.'"
You winced at the reminder. "Fine. What about calling someone? Surely you can reach Captain Ashiro?"
Hoshina's expression shifted to something resembling chagrin. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it up. The black screen remained stubbornly dark. "Dead. Five hours of use will do that."
You stared at the useless device, then at Hoshina, feeling rage bubble up inside you. "You've been playing on your phone for five hours while I did your paperwork, and you didn't even bother to charge it?"
He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though the expression was fleeting. "In my defense, I wasn't planning on getting locked in my own office."
Your hands clenched into fists. "And my phone?"
"Protocol for punishment duty. No personal devices," he reminded you, as if you could forget the way he'd held out his hand at the beginning of each session, waiting for you to surrender your phone like a schoolchild caught texting in class.
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. When you opened them again, Hoshina was watching you with unexpected intensity, as if gauging your reaction. The last rays of sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting striped shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
"So we're stuck here," you said flatly. "Until when?"
"Until someone comes to open the office in the morning," he replied. "The cleaning staff, probably. Around 0600 hours."
You checked your watch. It was barely 1900 hours now. Eleven hours trapped in this office with Vice-Captain Hoshina. Eleven hours of that penetrating gaze, that subtle mockery, that overwhelming presence.
With a defeated sigh, you moved back to the couch, dropping onto it heavily. "This is just perfect," you muttered, staring up at the ceiling.
Hoshina remained by the door, his tall figure silhouetted against the fading light, watching you with those unreadable eyes. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and the dawning reality of your shared predicament. You were trapped here, together, until morning. No escape from each other, from the tension that had been building between you since your first day in the Third Division, from whatever this night might bring.
The first thirty minutes of your forced confinement stretched like cold taffy—slow, uncomfortable, and increasingly brittle. You sat at opposite ends of the office, you on the couch, Hoshina leaning against his desk, both of you pointedly avoiding sustained eye contact. The silence settled between you like dust, occasionally disturbed by your attempts at conversation that quickly died away.
"So... how long have you been in the Defense Force?" you asked, knowing perfectly well it was in his file, which you'd read multiple times out of professional curiosity.
Hoshina's expression didn't change, those perpetually half-lidded eyes regarding you with tolerant amusement. "Eight years. Four in the Third Division."
"Right," you nodded, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on your thigh. "And before that, you were—"
"In the training academy, like everyone else," he finished, his tone not unkind but definitive, closing that particular avenue of discussion.
You tried again. "I heard that Captain Ashiro is thinking of implementing new training rotations for—"
"She mentioned it," he said, his eyes drifting to the window, where the last glimmer of daylight had finally surrendered to the night. Stars were beginning to emerge, distant pinpricks of light against the darkening sky.
Another five minutes passed in stifling silence. You attempted to discuss the weather (pathetic), recent kaiju activity (too much like work), and even ventured into asking about his family (his expression had hardened immediately, and you'd backtracked so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash).
Finally, as you opened your mouth to make yet another doomed attempt at small talk, Hoshina held up a hand. The gesture was swift and authoritative, like he was directing troops in the field rather than stopping your babbling.
"Enough," he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet office. "This is painful for both of us." There was no cruelty in his words, just an acknowledgment of the obvious.
You closed your mouth, heat creeping up your neck. "Sorry," you mumbled, wishing the couch would simply swallow you whole.
To your surprise, the corner of Hoshina's mouth quirked upward. Not his usual smirk, but something closer to genuine amusement. "I have something that might help with..." he gestured vaguely between the two of you, "...this."
Before you could ask what he meant, he moved behind his desk, dropping to one knee with unexpected grace. He reached beneath, arm disappearing into the shadows. There was the sound of something being moved, a soft scraping noise, and then Hoshina emerged with a bottle in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light as he straightened, holding it up with a look of subtle triumph.
Sake. Expensive sake, by the look of the bottle.
"That's against regulations," you pointed out automatically, then immediately regretted it. Eight days of punishment duty for insubordination, and here you were, quoting rulebook infractions at your superior officer.
Hoshina's eyebrow arched elegantly. "Is it?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Then I suppose I shouldn't share it with someone so concerned with regulations." He twisted the cap off with practiced ease, the subtle pop of the seal breaking unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
You bit your lip, watching as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow. His throat worked as he drank, the strong column of his neck moving beneath smooth skin. When he lowered the bottle, his lips were slightly wet, and he ran his tongue over them in a brief, unconscious gesture that caught your attention for reasons you didn't want to examine.
"Changed your mind yet?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher after the drink.
Pride warred with practicality. Eleven more hours in this office. Eleven hours of awkward silence or stilted conversation. Or...
"I take it back," you said, holding out your hand. "Pass it over."
A genuine smile spread across Hoshina's face, transforming his features from merely handsome to something that made your stomach do a strange little flip. He crossed the room with that predatory grace, the bottle dangling from his long fingers, and handed it to you with a flourish.
"To being stuck," he offered, his voice carrying a warmth you'd never heard before.
You accepted the bottle, your fingers brushing against his briefly. "To poor planning and security protocols," you countered, bringing the bottle to your lips. The rim was still warm from his mouth.
The sake burned pleasantly down your throat, spreading liquid heat through your chest. It was good quality—smooth with just enough bite to remind you of its potency. You took another swallow before handing it back, already feeling a slight loosening in your shoulders.
The next fifteen minutes passed in a rhythm of shared swigs and increasingly comfortable silence. The bottle passed between you like a peace offering, each exchange accompanied by a brief touch of fingers, a moment of connection that grew less accidental each time. The office seemed to grow smaller, the space between you on the couch less pronounced.
When Hoshina passed you the bottle for the fifth time, you tilted it back and attempted to drain what remained—a desperate bid to make this situation more bearable. The sake burned as you gulped it down, but before you could finish, Hoshina's hand closed around the neck of the bottle, pulling it firmly from your grasp.
"Easy," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "We have a long night ahead of us. Getting drunk in the first hour isn't a strategy I'd recommend."
You relinquished the bottle with a groan of frustration. "Being sober for eleven hours with you isn't a strategy I'd recommend either," you muttered, immediately regretting the honesty that the alcohol had loosened from your tongue.
Instead of taking offense, Hoshina laughed—a genuine sound of amusement that you realized you'd never heard before. It transformed his face, softening the sharp angles and making him look younger, more approachable. Something shifted in your perception of him, like a lens being adjusted to bring a blurry image into focus.
"If I'm such terrible company," he said, setting the nearly empty bottle on his desk, "perhaps you should find something to entertain yourself."
You stood, stretching arms above your head, feeling the slight buzz of the sake warming your veins. "Fine. There's got to be something interesting in this office."
You began to wander the room, examining the sparse decorations—a few medals in a frame, a certificate of commendation from the Defense Force High Command, a traditional sword mounted on the wall that you knew wasn't just for show. Hoshina watched your exploration with hooded eyes, his posture relaxed but attentive, like a predator at rest but still aware of every movement in its territory.
The bookshelf in the corner drew your attention. It was modest, containing various tactical manuals, reports bound in leather covers, and a few historical texts on swordsmanship and martial strategy. You ran your fingers along the spines, reading titles, getting a glimpse into the professional mind of Hoshina Soshiro.
And then you saw it, partially concealed behind a thick volume on ancient battlefield tactics. The spine was black with blood-red lettering, the title barely visible in the dim light. You slid it out carefully, curious what the Vice-Captain would be hiding.
Your eyes widened as you read the title. "Bound by Honor: A Warrior's Forbidden Desire." The cover featured a stylized illustration of a woman in traditional Japanese clothing, her kimono slipping from one shoulder as she gazed up at a shadowed male figure wielding a katana. It was unmistakably a romance novel—and judging by the suggestive pose and the tagline ("Her body surrendered what her lips denied"), not a particularly tame one.
You turned slowly, holding the book up with a growing smile of disbelief. "Vice-Captain Hoshina," you said, your voice lilting with barely contained laughter, "I had no idea you were interested in... forbidden desires."
Hoshina's eyes widened fully for the first time since you'd known him, his usual mask of calm indifference replaced by an expression of genuine alarm. He was across the room in three swift strides, reaching for the book with uncharacteristic haste.
"That's not—" he began, his voice tighter than you'd ever heard it. "It's not what it looks like."
You danced backward, keeping the book out of his reach, your earlier discomfort forgotten in the joy of having discovered something so unexpectedly human about the always-composed Vice-Captain. "Oh? Then please explain why you have a steamy romance novel hidden behind your tactical manuals, sir."
The honorific dripped with playful mockery, and for a moment, you thought you might have gone too far. Hoshina's face darkened, his jaw tightening in a way you'd only seen when he was preparing to face a particularly dangerous kaiju. But then, unexpectedly, his shoulders dropped, and he ran a hand through his purple hair in a gesture of surrender.
"It's was a goddamn gift," he muttered, his voice lower and rougher than his usual measured tone. "Okonogi thought it would be hilarious to give me that trash for my birthday. Said I needed to 'loosen up.'"
You blinked in surprise, both at the casual profanity and the revelation. The Vice-Captain never spoke about personal matters. "But you kept it," you pointed out, your finger still wedged in the book, marking a particularly explicit page you'd glimpsed while flipping through.
Hoshina's eyes narrowed. "I meant to throw it out."
"Sure you did," you said, unable to help the smirk spreading across your face. The sake was warming your blood now, making you bolder than you'd normally dare to be with your commanding officer. "That's why it's hidden like a dirty magazine instead of in the trash."
"I gave it a chance," he admitted with visible reluctance. "Absolutely hated it. The writing is atrocious, and the plot is—"
"Whoa, whoa," you cut him off, waving the book. "You actually read it? The great Hoshina Soshiro, master swordsman and terror of the Defense Force, read a smutty romance novel?"
His eyebrow twitched. "I didn't say I read the whole thing."
"But parts of it," you pressed, delighted by this unexpected discovery. The Vice-Captain who seemed above such human indulgences, caught red-handed with cheap erotica.
Hoshina snatched for the book again, but the sake had slowed his reflexes just enough for you to dance out of reach. You clutched the novel to your chest, backing toward his desk.
"I'll be the judge of whether it's garbage or not," you declared, settling into his chair with deliberate insolence. You opened the book to a random page, making a show of getting comfortable.
Hoshina looked genuinely appalled. "You're not seriously going to read that trash right now? When there are actual books worth reading on my shelf?"
You shot him a look over the top of the page. "What's wrong, Vice-Captain? Afraid I'll find out what gets you off?"
The words hung in the air between you, far more provocative than you'd intended. Hoshina's eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed to dangerous slits. For a heartbeat, you thought he might actually snatch the book from your hands, but instead, he circled the desk and dropped heavily into the chair opposite you.
"Fine," he said, reaching for the sake bottle. "Suit yourself."
You began to read, keenly aware of Hoshina's presence across from you. The story was exactly what you'd expected—overwrought prose describing the forbidden passion between a warrior and the daughter of a rival clan leader. The plot was thin, serving mainly as a vehicle to get the characters into increasingly compromising situations. But the writing wasn't actually terrible, and you found yourself getting pulled into the story despite your initial skepticism.
Hoshina took small sips of sake, his eyes occasionally drifting to the pages you were reading. You could feel his gaze tracking your progress, and it sent an unexpected thrill through you, knowing he was watching, perhaps remembering the scenes you were now discovering.
After about twenty minutes, you reached a particularly explicit section where the protagonist finally gave in to his desires for the heroine. The description was graphic and detailed, leaving little to the imagination as they tore at each other's clothes in a garden at midnight.
"That's not how it works," Hoshina said suddenly, breaking the charged silence. He was leaning forward now, pointing at a specific paragraph describing an impossibly athletic position against a cherry tree.
"Nobody's spine bends that way," he continued, his voice deadpan but his eyes glinting with challenge. "And the physics are all wrong. She'd fall on her ass."
You looked up, surprised both by his comment and the casual crudeness of his language—so different from his usual precise diction. "How would you know?" you countered, the sake making you bolder. "Have you tried it?"
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I don't need to try it to know it's physically impossible unless she's double-jointed and he has three hands."
You laughed, the sound bursting from you unexpectedly. "Maybe he does. Maybe he's a mutant. A sexy mutant with... extra appendages."
Hoshina's mouth quirked despite himself. "Is that what you look for in a man? Extra appendages?"
"Depends on which appendages we're talking about," you shot back, then immediately felt heat flood your face. The sake was definitely loosening your tongue.
Rather than being offended, Hoshina actually chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Continue," he said, gesturing toward the book with his sake bottle. "I'm fascinated to hear your scholarly analysis."
You returned to reading, hyperaware of his presence across from you. The novel grew increasingly explicit as you progressed, the forbidden nature of the relationship driving the characters to ever more desperate and passionate encounters. You found yourself reading certain passages twice, your body responding traitorously to the vivid descriptions despite the company you were keeping.
"Here's another one," Hoshina said after a while, leaning across the desk to tap a paragraph. His finger brushed against the page just as you were reading a particularly graphic description of the heroine's pleasure. "Complete fantasy. No woman comes five times in three minutes just from penetration."
You stared at him, momentarily speechless at hearing Vice-Captain Hoshina casually discussing female orgasms. The sake was definitely affecting both of you now.
"Maybe you're just not doing it right," you retorted, the alcohol bypassing your brain's usual filters.
His eyes locked with yours, and for the first time, you noticed that they weren't just dark, but a deep, midnight blue—the color only visible when you were this close. "Trust me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "that's not the problem."
Something hot and liquid pooled in your lower belly at his words, at the absolute certainty in his tone. You forced yourself to look away, back down at the book, but the words swam before your eyes.
"It's fiction," you managed, your voice not quite steady. "It's supposed to be a fantasy. That's the point."
"A fantasy that perpetuates unrealistic expectations," Hoshina countered, leaning back in his chair. "Which leads to disappointment in reality."
You flipped forward a few pages, determined to prove him wrong. "Not all of it is unrealistic. This part, for instance—" you paused, realizing too late that you'd turned to one of the most intense scenes in the book. The protagonists, after a heated argument about clan loyalty, were tearing at each other's clothes, their anger transforming into raw passion.
Hoshina's eyes skimmed the page, his expression unreadable. "Hate sex," he said flatly. "Another tired trope."
"What's wrong with it?" you challenged, an unexpected defensiveness rising in you. "People who argue often have intense chemistry. All that tension has to go somewhere."
"Into a rational discussion," he replied, though his eyes remained fixed on the explicit passage. "Not... whatever that is." He gestured dismissively at the description of the warrior pinning the heroine against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they devoured each other.
"That's exactly what someone who's never experienced it would say," you scoffed, the sake making you reckless. "Sometimes arguing is foreplay."
Hoshina's eyes snapped up to yours, dark and suddenly intense. "You think people who want to strangle each other also want to fuck each other?"
The crude word in his refined voice sent a jolt through you. "Sometimes," you insisted. "The line between rage and passion can be thin. Haven't you ever been so frustrated with someone that you wanted to either shut them up or shut them up?" You made a vague gesture meant to distinguish between the two types of shutting up.
"That's not how it works in real life," Hoshina said, but there was a new tension in his voice.
"So you've never argued with someone and felt that... charge?" you pressed, leaning forward. "That electricity? That moment when you're in each other's faces and suddenly you realize how close you are? How you can feel their breath? How their eyes drop to your lips?"
Hoshina was very still now, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "That's just in books like this," he said, but his voice had roughened. "Written by people who've never been in an actual fight."
"I've been in plenty of fights," you countered. "And in training. With you, in fact. And there's definitely a physicality to it that isn't entirely different from what they're describing." You gestured toward the book, to the scene where the warrior had the heroine pressed against the wall, his hand in her hair.
"That's adrenaline," Hoshina argued, though his eyes had darkened. "Combat chemistry. It's biological, not sexual."
"Is it, though?" You felt like you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, but couldn't seem to stop yourself. "The racing heart, the heightened awareness of the other person's body, the rush when you make contact? Sounds pretty similar to me."
Hoshina's jaw tightened. "You're comparing life-or-death combat to... to fucking."
"I'm saying they tap into similar primal instincts," you insisted. "The fight-or-flight response isn't so different from arousal. The body doesn't always know the difference."
"Bullshit," Hoshina said, but there was less conviction in his voice now.
"So you've never, ever, been arguing with someone and had the thought cross your mind?" you challenged, the sake making you relentless. "Never wanted to shut someone up with your mouth instead of your words? Never looked at someone who was driving you fucking crazy and thought about grabbing them by the collar and just—"
"Yes."
The single word sliced through the air between you, stopping your tirade cold. Hoshina's eyes had gone from half-lidded indifference to something dark and focused, like the moment before he drew his sword in combat. His gaze pinned you to your seat.
"What?" you managed, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his stare.
"Yes," Hoshina repeated, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the desk between you. "I've thought about it."
Your mouth went dry. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to dismiss the idea, to maintain his perfect composure while you needled him. Instead, he was looking at you like he was considering devouring you whole.
"I was just making a point," you stammered, suddenly desperate to backtrack. "About the book. It's not—"
"Bullshit." Hoshina cut you off, rising from his chair with fluid grace. "You don't get to throw that out there and then pretend you were just making conversation."
He circled the desk with predatory slowness, each step deliberate. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were certain he could hear it.
"I didn't mean—" you tried again, but the words died in your throat as Hoshina reached you, bracing one hand on the arm of your chair and the other on the desk, effectively caging you in.
"Yes, you did," he said, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. This close, you could see the flecks of midnight blue in his dark eyes, smell the sake on his breath mingled with something essentially him—steel and sandalwood and danger. "You've been pushing since the moment we got locked in here. Testing boundaries. Seeing how far you could go."
Your breath caught in your throat. He was right. You had been pushing, needling, prodding at his perfect composure, curious what lay beneath. And now you were finding out.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.
"No, you're not," Hoshina said, his voice dropping even lower. "But you might be."
The threat—or promise—hung in the air between you, charging the space with electricity. Your eyes dropped involuntarily to his mouth, to the perfect curve of his lower lip, and you realized with startling clarity exactly what you'd been pushing for all along.
"Tell me to back off," Hoshina said, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me I'm misreading this, and I'll go back to my side of the desk, and we'll forget this happened."
But you couldn't. You didn't want to. Instead, driven by sake and adrenaline and the culmination of months of tension, you reached up and grabbed the front of his uniform, yanking him closer.
"Fuck you," you breathed, the words lacking any real heat. "You know exactly what I want."
Something flashed in Hoshina's eyes—triumph, desire, or maybe both. "Say it," he demanded, his face now so close that his breath feathered across your lips. "I want to hear you say it."
Pride warred with desperation in your chest. "I want you to kiss me," you finally admitted, the words barely audible.
Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile, all sharp edges and dark promise. "That's not what I heard," he said, his hand moving from the arm of the chair to your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His fingers were callused from years of swordplay, rough against your skin. "I heard you talking about shutting someone up. About grabbing them and—what was it you were about to say?"
Heat flooded your face, but there was no going back now. "And kissing them until they can't think straight," you finished, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice.
"Is that what you want?" Hoshina asked, his thumb dragging slowly across your lower lip, sending sparks skittering down your spine. "For me to kiss you until you can't think straight? Until you forget all about that fucking book and your smart mouth and everything except my name?"
Your breath hitched at his words, at the raw intent behind them. "Yes," you admitted, beyond caring about pride or rank or professionalism. "Please, yes."
Hoshina's eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. "Good," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. "Because I've been thinking about shutting you up since the day you walked into my office for your punishment."
And then his mouth was on yours, and thinking became impossible.
There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration, his hand sliding into your hair to hold you exactly where he wanted you. You gasped against his lips, and he took immediate advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming, conquering.
You clutched at his uniform, at his shoulders, at anything you could reach, desperate to anchor yourself as sensation overwhelmed you. Hoshina kissed like he fought—with precision, intensity, and absolute focus, as if nothing else in the world existed but his target. Only now, that target was you.
He tasted like sake and something darker, something essentially him, and you were instantly addicted. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, mussing the perfect purple strands, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.
Hoshina made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and suddenly you were being lifted. In one fluid motion, he picked you up and deposited you on the desk, scattering papers and knocking the empty sake bottle to the floor with a dull thud. He stepped between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the desk until you were pressed flush against him.
The hard length of his arousal pushed against the seam of your uniform pants, and you moaned into his mouth at the contact. Hoshina broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes nearly black with desire as he looked down at you.
"Still think it's just fiction?" he asked, his voice rough and strained. "Still think it's unrealistic?"
You couldn't form words, could only shake your head, your hands still tangled in his hair, your body burning with need.
Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile. "I haven't even started yet," he promised, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, then higher, tracing the curve of your ribs through your uniform. "By the time I'm done with you, that fucking book will look tame."
The threat—the promise—sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, your body responding to his words with embarrassing eagerness. You could feel yourself getting wet, your underwear already damp beneath your uniform pants. There was no hiding it, no pretending this wasn't exactly what you'd been angling for since the moment you realized you were trapped together.
"Prove it," you challenged, your voice breathy but defiant. You weren't going to submit easily, even now. Especially now.
Something flashed in Soshiro's eyes—approval mixed with savage hunger. His hands moved to the fastening of your uniform jacket, deftly undoing the clasps that ran down the front. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he said, his voice rough as he pushed the jacket off your shoulders. "I'm going to find out exactly what makes you scream my name."
Your breath caught as cool air hit your skin, the thin tank top you wore beneath the jacket offering little barrier between his gaze and your body. Your nipples hardened instantly, visible through the fabric, and Soshiro's eyes fixed on them with predatory focus.
"Already so responsive," he murmured, his thumb brushing over one hardened peak through the tank. Even that light touch sent sparks shooting through your body, and you couldn't suppress a gasp. "I wonder how you'll react when I really touch you."
He bent his head, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but with enough pressure to make you cry out. The sharp sting was immediately soothed by his tongue, hot and wet against your pulse point.
"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access. "Soshiro—"
His name on your lips seemed to break something loose in him. One hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further, exposing more of your throat to his mouth. The other slid beneath your tank top, his callused palm rough against the soft skin of your stomach, then higher, until he was cupping your breast.
"Say it again," he commanded against your skin, his fangs grazing your collarbone.
"Soshiro," you repeated, the formal barriers between you crumbling with each touch. No longer Vice-Captain Hoshina, but Soshiro—the man who was currently thumbing your nipple with maddening precision, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
He rewarded you by taking the hardened bud between his fingers and pinching, just hard enough to make you arch into his touch. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending an unexpected thrill through you.
You reached for him, desperate to feel his skin beneath your hands, to see if the body that moved with such deadly grace in combat was as hard and honed as you'd imagined. Your fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his uniform jacket, your coordination hampered by the sake and the overwhelming sensations he was creating with his mouth on your neck, his hand on your breast.
Soshiro stepped back just long enough to shrug out of his jacket, then pulled his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion. You'd seen him shirtless before—during training, during medical checks—but never like this, never with permission to look, to touch. His body was a weapon, honed through years of rigorous training and combat: broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined without being bulky, skin marked here and there with the scars of his profession. A particularly vicious scar curved around his left side, the legacy of a kaiju's claw that had nearly ended him two years ago.
You reached out, tracing the raised line of that scar with your fingertips. Soshiro went still under your touch, his eyes watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.
"I thought we'd lost you that day," you admitted, the words slipping out unbidden.
Something softened momentarily in his expression. "Takes more than that to kill me," he said, catching your hand and bringing it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to your palm, surprisingly gentle, before nipping at the sensitive skin of your wrist hard enough to make you gasp. The tenderness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that hungry focus. "Now, where were we?"
He didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed, his deft fingers making quick work of the clasp. And then you were bare from the waist up, exposed to his gaze in the dim light of the office.
Soshiro's eyes raked over you, hot and appreciative. "Fuck," he breathed, the crude word somehow more affecting in his refined voice. "Look at you."
Self-consciousness warred with arousal as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your breasts, your waist, the curve of your hips still partially hidden by your uniform pants. But any insecurity was banished when he moved forward again, his hands spanning your waist, his mouth descending to capture one nipple between his lips.
The wet heat of his mouth made you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, holding him against you as he sucked and licked and gently bit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit. Your hips rocked forward unconsciously, seeking friction, seeking relief from the building pressure between your thighs.
Soshiro responded by grabbing your ass, pulling you harder against him, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your core through the layers of clothing that still separated you. He was huge, bigger than you'd imagined in your most private fantasies, and the thought of him inside you made you whimper with need.
"Please," you gasped, beyond pride now, beyond anything but the desperate need for more. "Soshiro, please—"
He lifted his head, his pupils blown wide with desire, his usually perfect hair mussed by your hands. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a rough growl. "Tell me exactly what you want. I want to hear you say it."
Heat flooded your face, but you were too far gone to care about embarrassment. "I want you inside me," you said, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Right here on this desk."
Soshiro's eyes darkened further, his hands tightening on your ass. "No protection," he pointed out, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. "We should stop."
The rational part of your brain knew he was right, but every other part of you screamed in protest at the thought of stopping now. "I'm on birth control," you heard yourself say. "And I'm clean. I get tested regularly." It was true—the Defense Force required medical checks every three months.
"Me too," Soshiro admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "Clean, I mean. But are you sure? Because once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop. I'm not going to be gentle."
You grabbed his face between your hands, forcing him to look directly at you. "I don't want gentle," you said, emphasizing each word. "I want you to fuck me like you've been thinking about it for months. Because I have."
Something feral flashed in his eyes at your confession. "Months?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
"Since the day you put me on my ass in combat training," you admitted, past caring about how pathetic it might sound. "You pinned me down, and all I could think about was how you'd feel on top of me in a very different context."
Soshiro cursed, the sound raw and heartfelt. "You have no idea how hard it was not to take you right there on the training mat," he growled, his hands moving to the fastening of your pants. "Every time you challenged me, every time you pushed back, I wanted to show you exactly who was in charge."
The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You lifted your hips, helping him as he yanked your pants and underwear down in one impatient motion. And then you were completely naked, perched on the edge of his desk, while he stood between your spread thighs, still half-clothed, his eyes devouring you.
"Fucking perfect," he murmured, one hand sliding up your inner thigh, his thumb brushing tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. "Spread wider for me."
You obeyed without hesitation, past shame, past everything but the desperate need for his touch. Soshiro's eyes darkened as he looked at you, at the glistening evidence of your arousal.
"So wet already," he said, his thumb finally, finally, brushing over your clit. Even that light touch was enough to make you buck against his hand, a broken sound escaping your throat. "And so sensitive. I've barely touched you."
"Then touch me properly," you demanded, frustration making you bold.
Soshiro's mouth curved into that dangerous smile again. "Still giving orders, even now?" he asked, his finger circling your entrance, teasing but not entering. "Still challenging me?"
You glared at him, even as your body trembled with need. "If you're not up to it—"
The taunt was cut off abruptly as he thrust two fingers inside you without warning, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. Your body clenched around him, adjusting to the stretch, to the delicious friction as he began to move his hand.
"What was that?" Soshiro asked, his voice deceptively mild even as his fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your vision blur. "I didn't quite catch it."
You couldn't answer, couldn't form words as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly, your thighs beginning to shake.
"That's it," Soshiro encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go. Show me how good it feels."
Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you with unexpected intensity. You cried out his name, your body arching off the desk, clenching rhythmically around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through you.
Before you could fully recover, Soshiro was undoing his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your body clenching in anticipation despite having just come.
Soshiro positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your still-sensitive flesh. "Last chance to back out," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
In answer, you wrapped your legs around his waist, using your heels to pull him closer. "Fuck me," you demanded, past pride, past everything but the desperate need to feel him inside you. "Now, Soshiro."
He surged forward in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch burned deliciously, your body struggling to accommodate his size. Soshiro groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.
"So tight," he muttered, his voice raw. "So fucking perfect around my cock."
He gave you a moment to adjust, his self-control evident in the trembling of his muscles, the tension in his jaw. But you didn't want control—you wanted him wild, unleashed, all that deadly precision focused entirely on your pleasure.
"Move," you urged, rolling your hips against him. "I won't break."
Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. "No," he agreed, pulling back slowly before slamming back in with enough force to make the desk creak beneath you. "You won’t."
And then he was fucking you in earnest, each thrust deep and hard, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force to hold you exactly where he wanted you. The desk shook beneath you, papers scattering to the floor, but neither of you cared.
Soshiro's control was slipping, his movements becoming more erratic, more primal. One hand left your hip to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat to his mouth. He bit down on the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder, marking you, claiming you.
"Mine," he growled against your skin, the possessiveness in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "Say it."
"Yours," you gasped, the word torn from you as he hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. "Fuck, Soshiro, I'm yours."
The admission seemed to break something loose in him. He redoubled his efforts, his pace punishing, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust. His free hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with unerring accuracy, circling it in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me again," he commanded, his voice rough with exertion and need. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
The dual stimulation was too much. Your second orgasm crashed over you with even greater intensity than the first, your inner walls clamping down on his length, milking him as pleasure consumed you. You screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, leaving marks that would still be visible tomorrow.
Soshiro followed you over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside you, his release hot and pulsing. He collapsed forward, bracing his weight on his forearms to avoid crushing you, his forehead pressed against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.
For a long moment, the only sound in the office was your mingled breathing, harsh in the stillness. Reality began to seep back in slowly—the hard surface of the desk beneath you, the chill of the air on your sweat-dampened skin, the realization of what had just happened.
You'd just had sex with Vice-Captain Hoshina. On his desk. During punishment duty. After arguing about a romance novel.
Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but before it could take hold, Soshiro lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. To your surprise, there was no regret in his gaze, no coldness, just a satisfied gleam and something else, something almost tender.
"Don't," he said, correctly reading your expression. "Don't overthink it."
"But—" you began, uncertainty creeping in as the haze of lust receded.
Soshiro silenced you with a kiss, this one gentler than before but no less thorough. "We still have..." he glanced at the clock on the wall, "...about eight hours until someone comes to let us out." His mouth curved into a smile that was more genuine than his usual smirk. "Plenty of time to continue this debate about fiction versus reality."
you haven't told hoshina that you're pregnant yet. what happens when it's no. 10 that tells him first?
feat. hoshina soshiro
- requested!
hoshina soshiro and numbers 10 (the series)
── ⟢
flashbacks of how hoshina hummed at the thought of your own family runs through your mind. you remember sitting under the cool shade, his warm hands tracing the outline of your knuckles as you talked about how your kids would look and act. training was over, everyone was inside taking a break, so hoshina had taken you out to get some fresh air.
he had been the one to bring it up, the talk of children, that is, which took you by surprise. it wasn't something you often introduced into your daily conversations. the responsibilities you had on your shoulders were far too much to begin thinking about a family, but on the day where no one was out to bother you, hoshina had somehow mustered the courage to confess a different form of love for your future.
"we'll have to carry on the names, of course," he grinned. "since my brother has the kanji for 'ichi' and i have it for 'shi', maybe we can have somethin' like that?"
you tilted your head to the side. "what, like, hoshina sogoro?"
digging his head into the crook of your neck, his laugh was like a remedy, soothing the knots in your stomach. "we'll think about it."
at that time, you didn't know whether that meant he was ready or if he was simply fond of the idea. maybe it was a small mix of both, but you were never sure.
yet around two months ago, you found yourself sat deathly still on your bed, pulling your brain apart for ideas on how you're going to tell him that you're pregnant with his kid. since that talk, neither of you had the time to bring it up again and still, you didn't think that this would become your reality so soon.
and so now, you find yourself lingering outside the operations lab where hoshina's currently stationed. judging from the roars and crashes, you can only assume that he's battling out his limits with weapons 10.
"vice-captain!"
you lift your head up at the sound of okonogi's voice echoing throughout the lab. then, the clanging from inside the simulation room comes to a halt.
"sorry for the interruption," she announces, "but (name) is here to see─"
you bolt up from your seat and slap your hand to your earpiece, whispering in frantic hushes. "konomi! nonono! i'll wait, i'll wait!"
"─you, uah!" she interrupts herself and you hear her stumble about. "vice-captain! nevermind!"
there's incoherent murmurs coming from the end of your line and you stay rooted to your spot until okonogi enters the call again. you can only sigh, rubbing your temples as she scrambles through her speech.
"uh, she... is not ready yet!"
it's not the best save, but you hope that it does at least buy you some time to think this through.
another buzz rings and your stomach drops at the sound of someone else.
"bring her in, i wanted a break anyway."
there's a pause before okonogi babbles a rapid cycle of apologies and you watch the door hiss open, revealing hoshina standing in the centre of the room. he's in the middle of reprimanding 10 again, his face contorted into a deep frown as they squabble back and forth.
once you start walking, though, his face lights up like a flash, as if the stress concerning the sentient suit goes flying out his head. he looks up at the window of the lab and shoots a quick thumbs up, signalling that he's finished with training for the day and within minutes, the screens surrounding him power off.
he grins as he meets you in the middle, tail swishing about like it's been eagerly waiting. "hoh, i didn't think i'd be visited by my lovely lady here of all places."
you don't miss the way the dot in his chest drills its glares into your skull or how hoshina has his head tilted with interest. honestly, with the way they're both staring─you have essentially interrupted their training, the fact that you haven't thought of single way to tell him hits you harder than you expected.
hoshina notices you waver and reaches out to touch your elbow. "everythin' ok?"
"yeah," you answer, but hoshina doesn't look convinced. "i mean, i have something to tell you. can we go back to my room?"
you bite your lip and his eyes flick down to them. he takes a step forward and opens his mouth, but 10's obnoxious growl takes over.
"clearly not important enough that she isn't saying it right now," it scoffs, but hoshina clicks his tongue and pokes its eye with the end of his blade.
"it's important enough that she came to find me," he argues, his expression scrunched up as he hisses at his chest. "don't speak like that about her, ya stupid suit."
"it's not my fault," it bites back, tail dangerously lurking around your feet until hoshina kicks it to the side. "besides, this could be a trap. something hasn't awoken within her."
the colour drains from your face as 10's eye flicks towards you. "woman, are you hiding some sort of innate power?"
hoshina huffs. "what the hell are ya talkin' about? did training make ya more dumb?"
dread seeps into your bones as the shield of courage you built up for this moment starts shrinking under their loud volume. you know exactly what 10 means by that, but you wonder if hoshina caught onto it too or was ignoring it as one of its usual nonsense.
you're viciously pulled out of your thoughts as 10 raises its tail past your legs, but luckily for you, hoshina grabs and chucks it away again.
"don't touch her!"
"i'm pointing out the thing!"
hoshina exhales through his nose, angrily. "what thing?!"
"soshiro," you call and the two stop. "let's just go─"
suddenly, the tail whips up and points at your stomach. "there's something in there!"
you feel your world stop as hoshina goes silent. his lips are parted as his stare lingers at the very spot where 10's tail hovers and you watch, without a word, at how his mouth trembles ever so slightly as if he can't devise a proper structure of words, as if nothing he'll say will make sense to him.
there's only one answer as to what it could be, there's only one thing that repeats in hoshina's mind because you literally had a deep conversation about this. it's too convenient, the timing is too right.
a long pause ensues as the two of you─three, or if 10 wants its way, four of you stay absolutely still. only the whir of the machines around you fill the room.
"soshiro," you whisper, looking down at your palms. "i'm sorry, you've always made it clear to me that communication is important, and i know that, so i wanted to tell you as soon as possible."
you sense his eyes on you, right on the top of your head like the usual affectionate pokes he gives you, and it's light with no blame to hold, no grudge or any drop of resentment. it doesn't feel heavy and you're tempted to look into his eyes and start this whole conversation from the beginning again.
you've known hoshina for a long time and throughout those years, he's never raised his voice and even now, he mirrors the same look he gives you when no words are exchanged but the message and emotions are so clear.
he'll dedicate his everything to you, and he means it.
impatient under the gruelling stillness, 10 grumbles. "how long are─"
"(name)," hoshina breathes. he sucks in a deep breath. "you're being serious?"
hoshina sounds... hopeful. his delicate tone just about reaches your ears and you find yourself looking up, searching for the small joke he normally makes, but all you see is how he yearns for an answer he wants to hear from you.
you nod. "i'm being serious."
it happens gradually, but hoshina winds his arms around your waist more gently than ordinary. he looks down as he traces lines on your hip, but when he stops just there, you watch him let out a shaky sigh, his thumb hesitant to inch any closer.
"it's ok," you say, calmly. you glance up with a small smile, catching his cautious gaze and take a hold of his hand. "i mean, he or she isn't completely there yet, but it's real."
"i swear, i'm gonna make 10 pay for this," hoshina murmurs, his body close so that only you can hear. "lemme get this off and we'll go back, ok?"
shockingly, 10 stays strangely quiet throughout the process of removing the suit, like it realises its mistake of blurting out what was meant to be a happy surprise. it returns to its glass pod and soon, you're walking back to your room with hoshina besides you.
you hear him chuckle to himself and when you turn to him he has his forehead pressed to his palm as he lets out puffs of short laughter.
"what?" you ask and he stops, letting his hand slide back down to his side.
he tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling with a wide smile. "ah, nothin'. i just... can't believe it, can't believe that stupid suit."
"soshiro, trust me," you start, running a hand through your hair. "i wanted to tell you, but it─"
"i don't blame you for that, love, don't worry," he says, shaking his head as you both turn the corner. "it's my bad, i should've taken it off sooner."
"well, i guess no that it knows too, we can attach a baby strap to 10 and teach it how to handle babies, yeah?"
hoshina bursts out laughing as he playfully nudges your shoulder. "ya think that stupid suit's gonna agree to that?"
"why not?" you shrug, letting the smile on your lips run free. "our baby will be well-protected from anything!"
mimicking each other's jokes, you enter your room and as soon as you do, hoshina has his arms around you again, his nose tucked into your collarbone as if you hold the most precious scent he's ever known. he mumbles into you, sending streams of tingles up your neck as you nestle into his tenderness all the same.
"we might not be perfect," he whispers, "i might not be, but we'll do our best. i'll do whatever i can."
"me too," you reply, resting your chin on his shoulder. "gotta make sure vice-cap hoshina knows how to use baby straps and baby talk."
you hear him scoff as he pulls back, sliding his hand up and down your arm with squeezes. you can still feel his breath on your skin as he glances between your face and stomach with a bright shine in his red hues.
"i'll make sure the both of you are always loved," he promises, then he catches your eyes again and shoots you a smirk, "well, not that i wasn't good at that before you became the mother of my kid anyway."
Gossip spread like wildfire through the JAKDF. By dinner, not only the First and Third Divisions, but probably every other base in Japan had already heard the news:
You and Narumi are married.
You sat at a table in the mess hall, surrounded by your squadmates, Okonogi, Captain Ashiro and Vice Captain Hoshina — who looked like he was still processing the shock.
“Ma'am, how could you keep such a big secret from us?!” one of your subordinates, Haruto, asked, clearly betrayed.
“We’ve been busy lately,” Captain Ashiro added, her brows furrowed in concern. “But if you’d told me, I could’ve given you a few days off. Did you even try to plan a honeymoon?”
Hoshina stared at you like you’d just admitted to marrying a Kaiju. “Are you for real?”
They’d been firing you with questions since dinner started. Honestly, you’d been hiding in Narumi’s room ever since training ended, trying to avoid this exact conversation. But now that it had exploded into an interrogation, you were equally annoyed… and amused.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” you said, raising your hands. “It’s not like I wanted to keep it a secret. But like Captain Ashiro said, we’ve all been swamped. We kind of... forgot to tell anyone.”
“Forgot? ” Okonogi questioned, unimpressed. “You forgot you got married?”
You winced. “Technically, Narumi did tell someone.”
You turned your eyes to Hoshina, who blinked.
“You,” you said pointedly. “He told you. But you laughed at him and said no one would marry him. After that, I was too embarrassed to say anything.”
The whole table turned to Hoshina, whose face was now unreadable.
He threw up his hands in surrender. “Come on, it is funny. I mean — it’s Narumi. The guy still acts like a middle schooler. Who the hell would look at him and go, ‘Yeah, husband material’?”
“Still funny now?”
A familiar voice cut through the air, smug and unbothered. All heads turned to look at Captain Narumi who strolled up behind you, tray in hand, smirking.
“I’ve got a pretty wife,” he said with a shrug. “Meanwhile, you’re all single and nosy.”
Before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
Ashiro looked seconds away from spilling her tea. Haruto dropped his chopsticks. Okonogi choked on her rice. Hoshina’s face twisted in annoyance.
“You two are insufferable,” Hoshina muttered.
Narumi took the seat beside you, grinning like he just won a competition. “Jealous?”
You elbowed him lightly, trying not to laugh. “Stop provoking them.”
“Too late,” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “They started it.”
syp: mdni cw; stalking, noncon, mentions of somnophilia—use of 'doll' no betaᝰ.ᐟ𖹭
it always starts the same, he's just going to look—not touch.
and every night he breaks that rule.
he doesn't mean to, really, but there's something so alluring about you when you're sleeping so peacefully. so vulnerable and open. ripe for the taking. can you truly blame him when you wear such short sleep shorts, your ass practically falling out into his open, waiting palms?
the floorboards creak in the otherwise quiet house, setting his nerves alight—praying that no one wakes up. the rickety lock remains broken. untouched. unchanged. lucky for him. it gives him the—easy—access he needs to see you, to smell you.
simply put, it's an addiction. you consume his thoughts like a thorn in his side.
to think all it took was seeing your smile sent in his direction would make him fall so quick, he's so pathetic that he just had to follow you—a desperate puppy craving your attention. an impulse decision to trail after you, hiding in the shadows to learn the street you live on, which house you reside in, and finally which room is yours.
mapping out your house was easy, a cake walk. he takes the familiar turns until he's outside your bedroom door, taking a deep breath before slowly, carefully twisting the knob. the door glides open, faint streams of moonlight peeking in through the curtains, highlighting your sleeping form beautifully. a true to life angel. he shuts the door, locking it behind him, ensuring that they'll be left alone. can't have anyone interrupting our bonding moment.
the bed dips as he settles in beside you, the way a lover would upon returning home; practiced and intimate, your cute nose scrunching up, twitching like a bunny as his scent wafts over you. a mix of a dark cologne, vetiver and oakmoss—the scent that clings to your sheets but could never find the source of—it wraps around you in the same way a snake would, tangling and twisting into a strangling grip.
for awhile he just watches you; the steady rise and fall of your chest, squirming in your sleep as you toss and turn. until his fingers start to twitch, a deep-seated need, burning hotly under his skin. he'll die if he doesn't feel the smoothness of your flesh under his fingertips.
"hi, doll." he murmurs softly, brushing his fingers along your jaw, watching in fascination as your lips part slightly.
his thumb toys with your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth and back out again. the digit glimmers in the dim light, he sucks your saliva clean off, suppressing a moan. whole body shuddering when he finally gets a taste—slightly minty from your toothpaste.
hesitantly, his hands ghost down hovering over your breasts, your nipples are pebbled, poking through the thin camisole like headlights. begging for his attention. his mouth waters, eyes scanning your face for any signs of stirring when he finds none his hands are on you; groping hungrily at your fleshy mounds, squeezing harshly until you squeak. a breathless little noise, almost a moan, your back arching off the bed.
his eye light up, glowing with tiny hearts, cock twitching in his pants. his touch gets rougher, greedier, palm sliding down your stomach, bunching your top up with an urgency. the most perfect sight greets him, your perky tits on full display and he has to bite his lip violently, almost breaking skin.
his dick is straining painfully in his shorts, freeing himself and hissing as the cool air hits his over-heated cock. lazily stroking up his length as he drinks in your figure, his free hand tugs at your shorts, pulling them down your thighs. fuck. you're not even wearing any panties, your folds shining in the moonlight, it's like you knew he was coming.
he lines himself up, rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your slit, collecting your slick as you squirm underneath him. he wonder what you must be dreaming of, it's too much to hope that your subconscious mind would choose him, but he wishes for it nonetheless. he'll make you remember him—one way or another.
your pussy flutters with every sloppy grind of his cock into your clit, gushing down your ass and staining the sheets. god, you feel even better than he imagined. so hot and wet. so perfect. he rocks against you with slow, desperate thrusts that has his cock leaking, pre-cum mixing in with your juices.
it sounds downright filthy, that squishy squelch of your bodies meeting in sinful tandem. his eyes watch the steady bounce of your tits, the way your face is screwed up tight, tiny gasps leaving those pretty lips of yours.
oh how he wishes he could see your eyes when you realize who's toying with your cunt.
his thrusts get quicker, digging his hips down to feel the throb of your clit, bucking like a wild animal to reach his release. he pictures it, your voice broken and needy as you cry out for him—the tight grip your sopping cunt would have on him as he splits open you wide. the way you'd claw at his back, arching into him like he's the only one who can make you cum. his sweet little doll, his to fuck and use as he pleases.
his eyes shoot open as he hits his peak, spurts his hot, sticky load land on your stomach and drip down onto your puffy folds. he adores the sight, awestruck like he created a masterpiece. you stir and he takes that as his cue to leave, hastily tugging your shorts back into place. he adjusts his pants, tucking his softening cock back into their confines, taking one last look at you before dipping out the window and into the night.
and in the morning you wake with dried patch of something clinging to your skin, confused as to how it got there...
⤷ touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki, hitoshi shinso, kazutora hanemiya, wakasa imaushi, rindou haitani, shinichiro sano, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, soshiro hoshina, narumi gen, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, solivan brugmansia (yes i had to add him) ++ your favsᝰ.ᐟ
kunaiiikittennn 𖹭 please do not repost, copy or steal my trashᝰ.ᐟ
hi i hope im doing this right can i get kafka,narumi, reno, and hoshina with fem reader at the beach?
ᝰ.ᐟ OUT OF UNIFORM. → kaiju no 8
synopsis: a rare day off turns into something warmer (colder) by the sea. ft. kafka hibino, gen narumi, reno ichikawa & soshiro hoshina
warnings: cursing, suggestive wording (my fault), female reader but nothing is gender specific! can be read as gn
author’s note: IM BACK GNGGG WELCOME 2026!! ready to be back on the grind and work on reqs i’ve been receiving ✌️ btw my banners still don’t work so have these lines ig 🥀
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KAFKA loved the beach.
not in a chill, relaxing way—no. kafka loved it like a kid who had way too much sugar.
the moment your sandals hit the sand, he was already kicking off his shoes, jogging ahead with a wide grin. “c’mon, the water’s perfect!” he called out, waving you over like he’d discovered a treasure instead of the ocean.
you barely had time to set your bag down when cold water splashed against your legs.
“KAFKA—!”
laughter shook through his shoulders as said man stood a few feet away in the shallow waves, hands raised in surrender. “sorry, sorry! i just wanted to test the temperature for you”
you shot a glare at your lover, right before splashing him back.
that was all it took.
soon it escalated into a full on water fight, kafka gasping dramatically whenever you doused him more in the cool liquid.
“HEY—that one was personal.”
“you started it!”
he chased you through the waves, laughing so hard he ended up tripping and swallowed a load of water after falling face-first that resulted in you hauling him out by the waist as the poor guy coughed violently.
once you laid him back on the towel, kafka seemed to revive; sitting up instantly and scratching the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “sorry for that..” he trailed off, a faint blush on his cheeks from embarrassment. “are you cold?” he asked suddenly, noticing you shivering a little from the breeze.
when you nodded, he grabbed another towel and draped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side without hesitation.
“see? that’s why you’ve got me,” he said proudly. “professional warmth provider.”
you rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the ocean and the steady heartbeat under your ear.
kafka stared out at the horizon, content.
moments like this—having fun, being close, feeling normal—were his favorite. though he secretly prays you don’t mention his small incident to any of your friends.
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NARUMI had claimed his spot on the beach the moment you arrived; towel set perfectly, sunglasses on, phone in hand. he was already deep into a game, thumbs moving rapidly as the sun shined overhead.
“this is peak relaxation,” he muttered. “try it sometime.”
you stood over him, hands on your hips. “we just got here.”
“exactly,” narumi replied lazily, not bothering to look up from his phone. “and i’m already winning.”
oh well. if he wasn’t going to make this easy, then you weren’t going to either.
you leaned down, placing your palm directly over the screen to block his view.
“come swim with me.”
your boyfriend sighed. “the ocean is wet. and cold. and full of effort.”
ignoring his whines, you grabbed his arm.
he didn’t budge.
you tugged harder—which made him groan.
“unbelievable...i’m being bullied at a public beach.”
but eventually, with enough pulling (and mild threats), he stood up. “fine, fine—but i’m blaming you if i lose my streak.”
at first, he dragged his feet through the sand, clearly unimpressed.
then someone nearby started a casual volleyball game.
one ball bounced a little too close—gen caught it without thinking.
it was in that moment when narumi quite literally locked in.
his slouched posture straightened, his eyes sharpened behind the sunglasses.
“oh? so that’s how we’re playing huh?”
next thing you knew, he was diving for balls, spiking like his life depended on it.
and the yelling. guess he doesn’t shout only in videogames.
“LET’S GO!” “POINT FOR US!” “DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME YOU—”
you could only stare in disbelief.
“weren’t you just tired five minutes ago!?”
“that was before competition was involved!” he shot back.
by the end, narumi was breathing hard, messy hair stuck to his skin everywhere. but he was grinning in victory.
“...okay,” he admitted, pushing his glasses up (how did they not fall off?). “that was actually fun.”
you laughed, handing him a drink.
he flopped back onto the towel beside you laying on his side, chin in hand.
“next time, you better be on my team.”
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RENO lingered a few steps behind you, soles half-buried in the sand as he stared out at the water.
“...it’s brighter than i thought,” he mumbled, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
glancing back at him, you smiled. “you okay?”
he nodded a little too quickly.
“yeah! totally. just uh—sun, you know.”
it wasn’t until you noticed how stiff his shoulders were that it clicked.
“reno,” you said gently, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “c’mere.”
he froze.
“you can just—i mean, i can do it—” he stammered, the tips of his ears turning red.
raising a brow, you countered with a simple “you’ll miss spots if you do.”
that was enough to convince him.
he turned his back to you after pulling his shirt off, shoulders tense as you spread sunscreen over his skin, your hands careful and cool. reno sucked in a breath at the first touch, fingers curling at his sides.
“s-sorry. i’m just not used to this.”
“it’s okay,” you reassured softly. “you’re doing fine.”
by the time you finished, his blush had crept all the way down his neck.
later, you walked along the shoreline together, shoes abandoned behind somewhere, waves brushing your ankles. reno kept glancing down at the sand, crouching every so often to pick something up.
“this one’s kinda cool,” he held out the small shell to inspect. “it’s not broken.”
“like you.”
that made him laugh a little. “you’re bad at compliments.”
yet he still pressed the shell in your hand.
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“yer gonna get knocked over if ya keep standin’ like that.” HOSHINA warned.
you shot him a look in response. “i’m fine.”
the wave that hit you immediately after proved him right.
he caught your hand just in time, fingers firm but warm.
“told ya.”
“you didn’t have to grab me like that.” you responded, steadying yourself while the water receded.
“yeah,” he said lightly. “but i wanted to.”
as you paddled deeper, hoshina positioned himself slightly in front of you, shoulders squared toward the incoming waves. every time one crashed a little harder, he adjusted to shield you without hesitation.
“ya swim slow. ever consider training more?” he teased.
you splashed water at him. “says the guy who’s holding my hand.”
soshiro grinned at your tone. “exactly. gotta protect ya from yerself.”
another wave rolled past, and before you could brace yourself, the swordsman tilted his head, eyes opening to glint with something unmistakably mischievous, letting go of your hand.
“race ya to the shore,” he said casually.
“what—hey—!”
too late.
the violet-haired menace took off, slicing through the water with infuriating ease. you followed after him, competitive instinct fueling in despite yourself. for a moment, you were keeping up—and you were just about to feel smug about it— when he disappeared beneath the surface.
you paused, looking around. “soshiro?”
a second later, you felt it.
a hand wrapped gently around your ankle, tugging you under with not-so-gentle force. your breath hitched as the water swallowed you whole, panic flaring—until his other hand wrapped around your waist.
before you could react, hoshina pulled you close, bubbles escaping in a quiet chuckle as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. then kicked upward, bringing you both to the surface in one fluid motion.
you gasped for air, heart racing, though his arms were still secure around you.
“SOSHIRO!”
the grin on his face told you that he was clearly unapologetic. “you okay?”
you stared at him for a second, trying (and failing) to hold onto your anger.
“next time you pull shit like that,” you jabbed a finger lightly into his chest. “i’m actually pushing you under.”
Warnings: NSFW 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, cockwarming, spanking, biting, marking, sucking, hickeys, breast play, hair pulling, riding, multiple positions, rough sex, squirting, dirty talk, reader wears a skirt
Yours Truly: GAMER BOYFRIEND GEN AHHHHHHHHH- Enjoy!
Taglist: @regu1ar-huh @bellaciao0
Kinktober masterlist
THANK YOU!
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵︵‿୨♡୧‿
The soft hum of the air conditioning unit in Narumi's room did little to cut the summer heat that clung to the air. Gen is slouched in his worn gaming chair, thumbs flying over the controller as explosions lit up the massive screen mounted on the wall. The room was a testament to his divided life: one wall plastered with tactical maps and kaiju reports, the other cluttered with empty energy drink cans, a half-eaten ramen cup, and shelves of video games. His black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, feet propped on a stool as he battled through a particularly grueling level of his favorite shooter game.
His girlfriend, sprawled across his unmade bed a few feet away, her short plaid skirt riding up her thighs as she flipped idly through a magazine. They'd been dating for nearly a year now, ever since a post-mission debrief had turned into a heated make-out session in the locker rooms. She worked as a tech analyst for the Defense Force, her days filled with data streams and simulations, but tonight, she wanted nothing more than Gen's undivided attention. The way his hair fell over his forehead in concentration, the flex of his biceps as he gripped the controller—it all stirred something primal in her. But he'd been at it for over an hour, grunting at the screen, ignoring her sighs and the way she stretched languidly, hoping to catch his eye.
Boredom turned to frustration, a slow burn in her chest. She tossed the magazine aside, the pages fluttering to the floor, and slid off the bed. Her bare feet padded softly across the cool tile as she approached him from behind, her hands itching to disrupt his focus. Leaning over his shoulder, she pressed her lips to the side of his neck, right where his pulse throbbed steadily. She sucked gently at first, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin, then harder, drawing the flesh between her teeth until a red mark bloomed under her mouth—a hickey, possessive and bold.
Gen's body tensed, his character on screen dodging a virtual blast by mere pixels. A low rumble built in his throat, but he didn't stop playing. Her hands trailed down his chest, fingers splaying over the hard ridges of his abs beneath the thin shirt. She dragged her nails lightly, feeling the heat radiating from him, inching lower toward the waistband of his sweatpants where she could already see the faint outline of his growing erection.
Before her fingers could brush the fabric, Gen's free hand shot up, capturing her wrist in a firm grip. He paused the game with a click, twisting slightly in the chair to fix her with a narrowed gaze, his dark eyes sharp and amused. "What the hell are you doing?" His voice was rough.
She pouted, leaning closer so her breasts pressed against his back, her free hand still hovering near his lap. "I'm bored out of my mind, Gen. I want your attention. On me." Her words came out in a husky demand, her hips shifting restlessly against the chair's arm.
He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through his chest, but released her wrist only to resume the game. "Not now. I'm in the middle of a level—boss fight. Wait 'til I finish this, and I'll fuck you so hard you won't walk straight tomorrow."
She huffed, stepping back with crossed arms, her cheeks flushing with annoyance. She watched him dive back in, the screen flashing with gunfire and shrieks. The room filled with the electronic chaos, but her mind raced with images of him pinning her down, his cock buried deep. Minutes dragged on, each one amplifying her ache. She couldn't take it anymore. Circling around, she perched on the edge of his desk, her hand darting out to cup the bulge in his sweatpants. She gave it a firm squeeze, feeling him harden instantly under her palm, the thick length twitching in response.
Gen's character exploded on screen, lives lost in a spray of pixels. He cursed under his breath, pausing again and batting her hand away with more force this time. "Babe, seriously? I'm trying to focus here. You're killing my run." But his cock strained against the fabric, betraying his words, the tip already dampening a spot.
She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, nipping at the lobe. "You weren't focused anyway. Your dick's harder than that controller. Come on, Gen—I need you inside me. Please." Her voice dripped with desperation, her thighs pressing together to ease the throb in her core.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration etching lines on his face. The game could wait; the heat in her eyes was a battle he was losing. "Fine. You want it so bad? I'll give you what you want." Annoyance colored his words, but so did hunger. He shoved the chair back slightly, pulling her onto his lap in one fluid motion. She straddled him eagerly, her skirt hiking up as his hands gripped her thighs.
Gen wasted no time. His fingers bunched her skirt to her waist, exposing the lacy edge of her panties. He hooked them aside roughly, the fabric scraping against her slick folds. With his other hand, he tugged his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock—thick, veined, the head flushed and leaking pre-cum that glistened in the low light. He positioned her above him, the tip nudging her entrance, her arousal already coating him.
She gasped as he guided her down, inch by inch, her pussy stretching around his girth. Her walls fluttering to accommodate him until he was seated fully, balls pressed against her ass. She moaned, the fullness making her head spin, thinking finally, this was it—he'd fuck her senseless.
But as she rolled her hips, grinding down to chase friction, Gen's hands clamped on her hips like iron shackles, halting her cold. "Stop," he said, voice low and commanding. "You interrupted me twice now. For that, you'll sit still on my cock until I'm done with this damn game. No moving. Or you'll stay like this all night, clenching around me while I ignore you."
Her eyes widened, a whine escaping her lips. "Gen, that's not fair—I need—"
He lifted one hand and delivered a sharp spank to her ass cheek, the crack echoing in the room. The sting made her jolt, her pussy tightening involuntarily around him, drawing a hiss from his lips. "Stay. Or I'll pull out right now, leave you dripping and desperate to finger yourself while I finish my level. Your choice."
Defeated, arousal pooling hotter in her belly, she nods, settling against his chest. The scent of his soap and faint sweat enveloped her as he snatched the controller again, unpausing the game. The sounds of battle resumed, but her world shrank to the thick cock impaling her, unmoving. Every breath he took shifted him slightly inside her, teasing her g-spot without mercy. She bit her lip, trying to obey, but her body rebelled—slick arousal seeped from her, dripping down his shaft to coat his balls, making everything slippery and hot.
Time stretched torturously. Five minutes? Ten? Her walls began to clamp down, milking him in subtle pulses as need built to a fever pitch. She buried her face in his neck, whining softly at first, then louder. "Gen... please, it aches so much. Fuck me. I can't take it." Her tongue darted out, licking a stripe up his throat, then sucking at the earlier hickey, marking him deeper. She nipped at his collarbone, hands clutching his shirt as her hips twitched, fighting the urge to rock.
Gen's focus wavered; his score drops as her heat squeezed him, her pussy making obscene wet sounds with the slightest shift. A tough enemy wave hit, and he growled, his free hand flexing on her hip. Her begging turned to desperate pleas, lips trailing kisses and sucks along his jaw, her breath ragged. "I need you. Please, Gen, I'm dripping everywhere."
Finally, with a frustrated groan that had nothing to do with the game, he hurled the controller to the floor. It skidded across the floor, the screen freezing on a defeat. "Fuck it. You win. Can't think straight with your pussy strangling my cock like that." His eyes burned with lust as he gripped her hips tighter, lifting her up slowly. His cock slid out until only the tip remained, her entrance clenching around it greedily, strings of her slick connecting them.
Then, with a primal grunt, he slammed her back down, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. she cries out, the sudden fullness punching the air from her lungs, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't give her time to adjust—his hands controlled her completely, bouncing her on his lap with speed. Up and down she went, his hips snapping up to meet each descent, the wet slap of their bodies drowning out the paused game. She couldn't match his pace; her thighs trembled, body jolting like a ragdoll as he pounded into her, cock dragging against every sensitive inch.
"Like that? This what you were begging for?" he rasped, one hand sliding up to fist her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. He latched on, sucking a fresh bruise while his thrusts never faltered, balls slapping her ass with each drive.
"Yes—Gen! Faster!" She moaned, her pussy fluttering wildly, the friction on her clit from his base building her toward release.
But Gen craved more control. Abruptly, he lifted her off him, her pussy clenching on emptiness with a pathetic whimper. He manhandled her effortlessly onto the bed, flipping her onto her hands and knees. Her ass presented to him, skirt still bunched, panties askew. Kneeling behind, he gripped her hips and thrust back in, the new angle allowing him to sink deeper, his chest pressing flush to her back as he draped over her.
The position was dominant, possessive—his weight pinning her as he rutted into her like a man possessed. His hands smacked her ass, sharp stings that made her skin redden and her pussy tighten. "This what you wanted? Interrupting my game to get fucked?" Each word was punctuated by a thrust, his cock fucking her relentlessly, hitting her cervix with controlled force.
Her arms buckled, face pressing into the sheets as pleasure coiled tight. "Yes—fuck, it's perfect! Don't stop!" She pushed back, but he held her steady, controlling the rhythm.
His hands roamed, sliding under her shirt to shove her bra up. Fingers found her breasts, cupping the soft mounds and pinching her nipples hard, twisting until she keened. He rolled them between thumb and forefinger, tugging in time with his hips, the sensations overwhelming. Sweat slicked their skin, the room heavy with the musk of sex.
He sped up, thrusts turning erratic, balls drawing tight. "Gonna cum—squeeze me, baby. Take it all." Her walls obeyed, clamping down as her orgasm crashed over her. She shattered with a scream, pussy spasming, slick gushing around him. Gen buried deep, groaning as he erupted, hot ropes of cum flooding her, painting her insides white. He pumped through it, milking every drop until they both collapsed, panting.
She starts to pull away, her body limp and sated, cum trickling down her thighs. But Gen's arm banded around her waist, holding her in place. "Not so fast. We're not done. You dragged me from my game—now you take the full punishment." His voice was husky, cock still semi-hard inside her.
With a swift flip, he rolled her onto her back, missionary, hooking her legs over his shoulders. The position folded her flexibly, her pussy exposed and leaking their mixed release. He slid back in easily, the creaminess lubing the way as he bottomed out, pushing their cum deeper. "Gonna fuck this back inside you. Every drop."
He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a devouring kiss, tongue thrusting deep, mimicking his hips. He bent her legs further, knees nearly to her chest, the stretch allowing him to grind impossibly deep. she moaned into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair, the angle hitting her g-spot with every stroke.
Breaking the kiss briefly, he dipped a hand between them, fingers finding her swollen clit. He rubbed firm, insistent circles, the pressure building fast on her oversensitive nerves. "Cum again. With me. Soak my cock." His thrusts grew punishing, skin slapping, the bed creaking under them.
It was too much—the depth, the circles on her clit, the fullness of his cum-stuffed cock. She cries out as her climax hit, pussy squirting in powerful jets that soaked his abs and sheets. Gen followed, slamming home as he came again, more cum spilling into her overflowing depths.
They rode the waves together, bodies locked, until exhaustion claimed them. Gen eased her legs down gently, collapsing beside her. He pulled her close, kissing her temple. "Satisfied now? Or you planning round three?"
She laughed weakly, tracing the hickeys on his neck. "Maybe. If you pause the game next time."
